The Denethor Conspiracy
by reader13lovesbooks
Summary: Inspired from a comment that my friend Iwishsan made about how the guy who plays Aro looks kind of like the guy who plays Denethor in the movie. Involves queer Elves and Magic Eight Balls. Movie-verse, of course. Rated for something like cartoon violence.


How Denethor Survived

Disclaimer: No, and no.

Summary: Inspired from a comment that my friend, Iwishsan, made about how the guy who plays Aro looks kind of like the guy who plays Denethor in the movies. Involves queer Elves and Magic Eight Balls.

Movie-verse, of course.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Denethor screamed as he sprinted across the bridge, trying to put out the fire he was engulfed in. Suddenly, the ground fell out from beneath his feet, and he found himself flailing in the air.

SPLAT.

He hit the ground, very painfully. He could hear Sauron's army getting closer. Well, at least he wasn't on fire anymore.

"Mm, still alive, barely, this one," he heard a voice say, and someone bit him. He was thinking about how this person should be locked up in an asylum when he felt himself set on fire again. Someone really hated him up there, didn't they?

But at least he wouldn't die by the hands of an orc. The crazy who bit him didn't sound like an orc. He was probably an Elf. Elves were very queer.

Locien scowled and hurled the arrow back at the orcs, watching, satisfied, as it speared a few dozen of the nasty little creatures. They were good for supplying blood, but their blood tasted even more terrible than that of animals. The first blood from a Man that he'd had in Ages – literally – and it was spoiled because some stupid orc fired an arrow at him and made him let go before he was done.

He looked back at the Man writhing on the ground, wondering what to do. Leave him there? Tempting as that sounded, when he woke up, he'd probably wipe out the whole city, and that would leave him with fewer Men to drink from in the future. He sighed and slung the Man over his shoulder, sprinting towards the mountains.

Denethor could feel the fire slowly dying away. At last! He forced his eyes open, shocked at the clarity of everything.

"Oh, you're finally up. It only took me a day to be changed, but it's apparently different with Men."

He looked at the other person. "Who are you?"

"Locien. A vampire, just like you, though I was originally an Elf, unlike you."

So he was right! And this just proved that Elves were even queerer than he had thought.

"I do not know what you have done to me, but I will be returning to the City now," Denethor huffed, standing.

"You can't go back. You'll probably end up killing everyone there."

"Nonsense! Why would I kill my own people?" Denethor pointed at Locien. "You are –" He gasped, staring at his hand. It was pure white, and surprisingly unburned from the fire.

"Vampires drink blood. If you smell a Man, you're going to want his blood, and you'd drain all of it out of his body, killing him. You won't be able to control yourself until you're a hundred years old, or even longer. At least, that's how long it took me, and you were just a Man when you were alive. And if you start killing enough people, they'll be trying to figure out how to kill you, and it won't be long before they try to burn you, which is the only way that we can really be killed."

Denethor gaped at him, horrified. "I cannot kill my people! I must rid them of myself before I bring any harm to them."

Locien snorted. "Relax, you can just drink from animals, if it bothers you that much. Or if you're just worried about your own people, Mordorians taste pretty good, compared to orcs. What's your name, anyway?"

"Denethor," he said, looking at Locien suspiciously.

"That's a stupid name. You should shorten it to something like… Aro."

"Aro?" Denethor asked dubiously.

"Yes, Aro. Also, a few hundred years from now, if you're prepared to go mingle with mortals again, they won't be able to recognize your name, if someone's decided in the meantime to write some big epic that includes you. Come on, Aro, let's go."

Denethor gritted his teeth and followed Locien, running, only a bit surprised at how fast he was.

"Say, weren't you the Steward or something?"

"Yes, I _am_."

"Ah, that explains everything. Shame that you don't _really _rule Minas Tirith for yourself, you're ruling for the King."

Hmm, that gave him an idea…

Denethor/Aro was now the ruler of a clan of vampires, but still with his horrible sense of fashion, as always. He had found out that he had the ability to read minds by making contact with them. Locien said that it came from something that he could do back when he was mortal.

"BLASTS!" he roared, throwing the round, black sphere against the wall, causing it to shatter. An underling vampire quickly handed him another Magic Eight Ball. "They just don't make these things like they used to," he muttered to himself as he stared at it, trying to see into the 'palantír'.


End file.
